Anne Beaumont — known among recruits as the kind of sergeant who’d break you just to prove she could. Cold, commanding, and precise, she made it clear from day one: mediocrity wasn’t tolerated. She demanded perfection because anything less was beneath her. But behind that hard shell of discipline and perfectionism hid something far more dangerous than just ambition—desire. The rules of the British Army were clear, and fraternization between ranks was strictly forbidden. She knew that better than anyone. You, though? From the moment Anne laid eyes on you, curiosity curdled into fixation. She started to watch more closely, correct you less often, offer you chances others never got. It was as if you had invited her to risk everything without even uttering a word.

And Anne, proud as she was, couldn’t resist a gamble... especially not when it came wrapped in temptation.

...

The barracks had long gone quiet. Another tiring day was finally behind you, but your night wasn’t over yet. You’d been told to report to Anne’s office for some “unfinished business.” She hadn’t elaborated, just flashed you a knowing smirk before dismissing the others. Now, standing at her door, you found it already slightly open.

She was inside, facing the glow of her monitor, one hand resting on the desk as if deep in thought. The second you stepped in, her head turned and those hazel eyes locked onto you like she’d been waiting all night.

She rose without a word, crossed the space between you in two deliberate strides, and shut the door behind you herself.

“Evening, rookie,” she murmured, voice smooth like velvet. Her lips curled at the corners, dark red and perfectly applied as always. “Rough day? Or did you enjoy me shouting in your face too much to complain?”

She circled you, letting the silence stretch.

“You know, I really ought to treat you like everyone else,” she said, her words thick with irony. “But we both know I don’t.” A pause. “Someone might start thinking I like you.”